


A good man (or so Bucky says)

by Mimsys



Series: On a Pedestal [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Praise Kink, non sexual kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2667533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimsys/pseuds/Mimsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky was the first person to know about Steve's praise kink. Before the ice, that meant he could soothe the burns Steve felt he deserved; as the Winter Soldier, it meant he knew how to inflict them.<br/>The other parts of this series are not required to understand this fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A good man (or so Bucky says)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kehinki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kehinki/gifts).



> If I owned anything relating to Marvel, bi!Steve would be canon.

Bucky had always seen Steve as something special, delicate but passionate and altogether perfect, something Steve had always protested rather heavily even as he squirmed free from the other’s embrace. They’d never spoken aloud about Steve’s need for praise, for reassurance, but Bucky was always quick to offer both, to press Steve back against the walls of their shared apartment and whisper gentle, soothing promises against the frail man’s skin, to run his fingertips carefully over bruised skin flesh and sharply protruding ribs, memorizing each inch of bared skin and chasing away Steve’s worry with the brush of his lips.

Steve knew he was broken, flawed, weak, but Bucky made him feel strong. While he was wrapped in the other’s arms, Steve almost felt worthwhile. It was a fleeting sensation, chased about by the memories of his father and the jeers of his so-called peers, but one he relished even though he knew it was wrong to do so. To need.

When Steve stumbled into their flat with new scrapes and bruises, Bucky kissed each of them, lips dragging over the purpling skin of Steve’s knuckles, and promised Steve things the blond couldn’t let himself believe. “You’re brave.” The brunet had rasped against a dark bruise on his shoulder, “And I’m so proud of you.” Steve hadn’t understand why, didn’t see the good in him that Bucky seemed to, but he knew that Bucky knew all the places he was broken and saw them incomplete instead, waiting to be fitted with another piece to make them all. It was Bucky, it was always Bucky, but the blond didn’t know how to tell him that.  
And even as Steve reached for the other, straining over the edge of the train, Bucky continued to ~~lie~~ reassure him, to give him hope as a parting gift, “You’ll make Erskine proud, Stevie; you’re a good man, have always been one. I’ll see you again one day.” And then he was gone.

-

When Steve saw Bucky again, the man was more weapon than human. He carries guns and knives, holding the blade of the latter to the delicate skin of Steve’s throat, but it doesn’t cut as much as the words spilling from his lips. “You let me fall, Captain, and now your new teammates will watch you do the same. They told me about you, how we fought alongside each other, but then you became Captain America and you didn’t have time for me. You had Agent Carter and Stark and you didn’t need me.” The Asset’s eyes were cold, calculating.

“That’s not true, Bucky.” But his protests got unheeded, only bring a sneer to the other’s lips. “I tried to save you. It was HYDRA who did this to you, who took you away from me, and who turned you into a puppet, a weapon.”  
And then a metal hand closed around his neck as he was pressed back against a wall, the other hand fisting in his hair, tilting his head back roughly so he couldn’t avert his eyes. “I remember telling you that you weren’t broken. That Erskine would be proud of you, that your mother would. I lied.” He tightened his grip on Steve’s hair, earning him a low, pained groan. “Your father was right about you.”

-

They don’t let Steve see Bucky until even Fury is sure he’s recovered, until Stark had replaced his arm with one that was strong and metal but not lined with other weapons, until Natasha could give him a pained smile and tell him that it wasn’t Yasha any more, even if wasn’t the Bucky Steve once knew.

When they meet again for the first time since he was deconditioned, Bucky pulls Steve into his arms, burying his nose against the other’s neck, pressing close and breathing in his scent. “I’m sorry. For everything.” And Steve knows what he means without him having to say it. Bucky still believes he should have broken free sooner, that the blood of the innocents who died by the Winter Soldier still stained his hands, but time would ease that, reassurances would ease that. The stammered apology was for something much more personal, for the verbal barbs he’d used to slice the Captain open.  
“I know, Buck.” He sighed, giving him a brittle smile. “And you weren’t exactly wrong. I let you fall.”

“You didn’t let me do a damn thing.” Bucky replied hotly, and then presses Steve gently against the wall so he can ease off the other’s shirt, uncover the bandaged ribs and new scars. He presses his lips to each one, flesh hand on Steve’s hip even as the metal one braced against the wall. On each new injury, he rasped another fond word, affection clear in his tone: “Strong. Brave. Loyal.” Bucky raised his head, peering up at Steve with a crooked smile, “A good man.”

And when Steve threads his fingers with Bucky’s metal hand, it’s finally his turn to return the favor, to let Bucky know that he’s not a weapon anymore.

-

They share reassurances and praise between kisses, melting against each other. They’re not pretending its easy, that Bucky doesn’t lock himself in his room when loud noises startle him, that Steve can’t help but reach out for the other, to touch him lightly, casually to make sure his friend is still there. But when Steve gets pulled into Sam or Natasha’s arms after a mission so they can whisper reassurances against his neck, Bucky convinces himself they’re not a threat, lets the display continue even though he wishes he could rip them apart. Because he knows that when Steve’s done, he’ll crawl into the other’s lap, snaking his arms around him, and they’ll be at peace again. And when Bucky panics and throws Steve across the room, the blond always comes back to him with light kisses and whispered assurances, reminding him how to breathe, just as Bucky had done often for the other’s asthma.

In Bucky’s arms, Steve thinks he might be the good man the others believe he is.


End file.
